Good Service

She was short and plump
with the eyes of a bird;
unattractive in a pretty way.
She hesitated as she stepped
up to the counter,
licked her dry lips, and rang the bell.
Almost immediately, an acne-faced young man
popped up, wearing a ridiculous hat
and an ingenuine smile to hide his boredom.
He gushed, “We give you what you want,
now!
May I take your order?”
Her chickadeed gaze wandered up
and remained fixed on the menu
as her voice exploded
in the dead of the room.
Startled, her throat caught on
her words. Trying to counter
her nervousness, she overcompensated again.
“A num… A number three, please.”
“Anything on the side?”
She shook her head negatively.
“Will this be cash?”
She said nothing when he pointed
to the figure displayed on the register’s screen,
but peeled off eight bills from her fold
with sweaty hands.
She placed them before him and glanced at his face.
“Thank you. Please move to the pickup counter.”
With trepidation and excitement,
she slid to the next counter
to pick up her newly-created daughter.